


all I want

by transkylo (captainandor)



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9082207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainandor/pseuds/transkylo
Summary: Robert and Aaron struggle with distance over the holiday season.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for [ smittenwithsugden's ](http://smittenwithsugden.tumblr.com/) long distance relationship prompt as part of the robron holiday exchange 2016

Robert rubs his hands across his face, stifling another yawn as he sinks down into the heavy cushions on the sofa without even bothering to take off his suit jacket. It’s been a long day and he wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep until lunch time. 

He pulls his phone out of his trouser pocket, a smile creeping onto his face as he sees the list of notifications he’s missed over the past couple of hours. All of them are from Aaron. He sends Robert little updates every day, pictures of Liv, and Chas, and Noah. Funny stories about what Paddy’s pissed off about now, or who’s been arrested again in the village. Today, it’s a picture of Adam sleeping, half hunched over the desk in the portacabin, mouth hanging open in a snore. 

He huffs a laugh, sends Aaron back a photo of the ridiculous advent calendar Vic had brought home the previous evening, insisting that they hang it up on the living room wall. 

A text comes through a minute later. 

**From** : Aaron 

_Finally home? Workaholic._

Robert wonders what Aaron’s doing, right this second. What the weather’s like. 

_Someone’s got to push the pencils._ he sends back, followed by _Are you free just now?_

Aaron’s reply is near instant. _’Course. I’ll call you in 5._

Robert takes that as his cue to get up from the sofa. Tucking his phone back into his trouser pocket, he moves into the hall, kicking off his shoes and hanging his jacket up over the coat stand as he passes.

His laptop is half tucked under his bed from the night before, and he pulls it out with him and climbs onto his mattress, opening it up and getting himself comfortable as he waits for the screen to load and allow him to log in. He’s barely typed his password in and let his homescreen load before a skype call is coming through, Aaron’s icon – a stupid selfie he and Robert took last time they met up – in the centre. 

He answers, and can’t help his smile when Aaron appears fullscreen, wearing a dark green jumper, hair free from gel and looking freshly washed. 

“Hi, you,” he says. 

Aaron runs a hand back through his hair, glancing up at the webcam, and then back at his own screen, “Hiya,” he replies, a smile threatening to curl his lips at the edges. 

“You’re looking nice,” Robert comments, “Is that your natural hair I see for once? Free from it’s oily gel prison?” 

Aaron narrows his eyes, “I’m just out the shower,” he explains, “And I’ll have you know that I _like_ gelling my hair, thanks,” 

“No fun to run my hands through, though,” Robert points out, trying to ignore the ache in his chest that comes every time he thinks about being with Aaron in person. Distance hurts, but sometimes it’s more bearable than others. 

“Thought we had an agreement,” Aaron says, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms, “I don’t say anythin’ about your elbow patch cardigans, and you don’t insult my hair,” 

“What’s wrong with cardigans?!” Robert asks, offended. 

Aaron squints at him, “There are so many things wrong with that sentence I don’t even know where to begin, mate,”

Robert rolls his eyes, shifting into a more comfortable position on his mattress. On the computer screen, he sees Aaron peering over his shoulder at something in the hall. 

“Is that tinsel I see?” he asks, disbelief in his voice. 

A quick glance over his own shoulder has Robert spotting the cardboard boxes piled atop one another outside his bedroom door, tinsel peeking out from the top of one. He laughs, and turns back to his boyfriend. “Yeah,” he says, “Vic’s been going on about decorating since the end of October, she’s adamant that its acceptable to have the tree up on December first,” 

Aaron shakes his head. “Never heard of the twelve days of Christmas, has she?” he asks. 

“Apparently not. Not that you’re one to talk, Chas always has everything up early too, if I remember correctly,” 

“That’s on her,” he says, with a tilt of the head, amusement sparkling in his eyes, “If it were up to me I’d wait until the twelfth, the proper day,”

“Scrooge,” Robert mutters, repositioning his laptop and leaning his chin on his hand, “I can’t wait to spend Christmas with you,” he adds, with a lazy smile. 

Aaron’s answering expression is less than enthusiastic. “Ah,” he says, eyebrows pinched together.

Robert props himself up on both elbows, “Ah what? That doesn’t sound good,”

Aaron rubs at the back of his neck, looking somewhere just beyond the webcam, “I…might now be over until after new year,”

The silence stretches between them. Robert stares at his computer screen, and Aaron continues to look uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Finally, Robert sits up a little straighter. 

“How much after new year?” he asks, unsure if he even wants to know.

“Oh,” Aaron says, “Before the end of January, definitely,”

Robert sighs. “Right, okay,”

“What, is that you dropping it?” 

“Well no. but I can’t do much about it, can I, so what’s the point arguing,” 

Aaron looks down. Robert can imagine him picking at the skin on his hands, a nervous habit he’s had for years. He misses seeing little things like that, little quirks that make Aaron _Aaron_ , when they’re not right in front of him.

“I am sorry,” Aaron tells him, “You know I’d love nothing more than to be with you right now, Rob,” 

“Yeah,” Robert reaches out, touches the screen, remembers how Aaron’s skin feels beneath his fingers, “Guess we’ll have to skype Christmas dinner again then, eh?”

Aaron cracks a smile, “You bet. Everyone’s face was priceless last year when I cracked out the laptop at the dinner table,” 

“I love you,” Robert tells him earnestly. They don’t say it enough. He thinks it all the time. 

“I know,” Aaron says, rubbing at his eye with the sleeve of his jumper. 

“You can love me back, you know,” Robert jibes, trying to lighten the mood. 

Aaron huffs out a laugh, then looks more serious, “I do.”

*** 

“Morning!” Vic calls, cheery and bright, when Robert all but stomps into the kitchen; showered, dressed, but still more than half asleep. He glares at her and snatches a slice of buttered toast from her plate. “Alright,” she says, eyeing him, “Did somebody get out on the wrong side of bed?”

“Ugh,” Robert says, “I don’t have time for this.”

“Has something happened?” she presses, looking concerned now. He throws the toast back down with a huff, looking over at the wall and training his eyes on a particularly interesting rip in the wallpaper. 

“I spoke to Aaron last night” he says, hesitantly. 

Vic puts her tea down on the counter. “So why’s your face trippin’ you? What did you fall out over this time?” 

“He won’t be here for Christmas,” Robert says to the wall, “Again.”

“Well, how come? He seemed really up for it last time I heard,” 

Robert shrugs. “I don’t know. Somethin’ to do with the scrapyard,”

“Surely he can take some time off to come see his boyfriend, though,” Vic says, hand on her hip, plate of toast in the other. She’s frowning, and the deep crease on her brow doesn’t suit her. 

“Clearly not.” Robert says, waving his hand dismissively at her. Its been nagging at him all night, keeping him awake. He’s seen Aaron only once this year – one weekend out of fifty two, spent mostly in a hotel room overlooking the sea. He misses the physical contact, the casual intimacy of just being able to sit next to Aaron and feel the warmth from his skin.

“Well, what about you going up there?” his sister suggests.

Robert had entertained the idea, too, but he shakes his head, “Can’t,” he tells her, “Flights this late are extortionate and besides, Diane would be having _me_ for Christmas dinner if I abandoned you all,”

Vic reaches across to squeeze his hand. “You’ll work something out,” she says; firm, sure, “You two always do.”

He forces a small smile. “Yeah. Guess so.” 

“Know so. You love each other,” 

“I just wish we could be together – properly, you know? Like a proper couple.” 

Vic smiles at him again, comforting and warm, it makes Robert feel uncomfortable, he doesn’t deserve it, least of all from her. “I know, Rob,” she says, “You’re strong, though, you two. I couldn’t do long distance, that’s for sure.”

Robert rubs at his tired eyes with the knuckles of one hand, staring blankly out of the window as the fuzziness clears from his vision. “Yeah,” he says, to himself, “Sometimes I can’t, either.”

They go Christmas shopping that day, Vic tugging him between shops and hanging bags from his arms. She goes overboard every year, always one for giving gifts and spreading the cheer. Robert complains the whole way around the town, only half meaning it. By the time they reach their last destination – Vic has promised to buy him coffee when they’re done, just _one more shop_ \- Robert feels like his arms are going to dislocate from the sheer weight of the giftbags. 

It’s a jewellery shop, he notes briefly, as his sister marches him past glass cases filled with sparkling accessories, and sits him down in a comfortable chair. “You can wait here,” she says, patting his cheek, “I know what I’m in for, just give me five minutes and then we’ll go get some mince pies, alright?” 

“You bet,” he says, “I’m starved,” 

She gives him a look before darting off to the other end of the shop, leaving him alone and surrounded by bags and other shoppers. He sighs, leaning back in his chair and fishing his mobile out of his coat pocket. He has one text from Aaron in reply to something he sent earlier, to which he sends back an emoji, and then tucks his phone away. When he looks up, he sees a young couple just in front of him, shopping for wedding rings. 

 

Something tightens in his chest as he watches their faces light up, one woman sliding a delicate silver band onto her fiancées ring finger. 

 

He averts his eyes, because it’s a private moment, not for him to see, but he keeps looking back, his eyes involuntarily drawn to them, the warmth in their eyes as they look at one another. He feels a knot tighten in his chest, realises that this is something that he wants, something he’s always wanted, really. Settle down with somebody he loves – with Aaron – for the rest of his life. 

 

Leaving the bags in the chair, he moves to the nearest display case, eyeing up shelves and shelves of engagement rings. Some are ridiculous – priced well above any normal person’s budget and flashy enough to blind you – but others are much more understated. He likes simple, when it comes to jewellery. He knows Aaron does too. 

There’s a ring on the bottom shelf that catches his eye, polished silver gleaming up at him from its plush velvet box. He imagines it on Aaron’s ring finger, entertains the thought of running his own fingers over it as he and Aaron held hands. 

 

Vic snaps him out of his reverie, returning with yet another bag, this one filled to the brim with silver tissue paper. 

 

“Alright, that’s Diane sorted. All that’s left now is something for you but I’ll have to pop back down one day by myself because I don’t want to ruin the surprise,” she looks up, notices the case they’re stood in front of. Her eyebrows shoot up, “Looking for something in particular?” she asks. 

 

He glances at the ring, and then straightens up. “No, just having a nosy,” 

 

She watches him, lips pursed, then shrugs it off, “Okay, well I’m ready if you are?”

 

Robert reaches over to retrieve the shopping bags, “Thank God,” he says, steering her towards the door, “C’mon. You owe me an americano,”

***

The weeks pass in a haze, festivities dampened for another year at the knowledge that Robert is going to have to spend this Christmas without his other half. Again. It hurts, and the regular photo updates Aaron send hurt more, because he looks _happy_. Surrounded by family and friends and Christmas cheer – everything Robert feels bereft of.

He knows that’s not true, not exactly – he has Vic, and Andy, and Diane, but there’s an emptiness in his chest that won’t be filled no matter how much tinsel Vic throws over the house or glasses of mulled wine he drinks.

Aaron skypes him on Christmas eve. 

He’s sitting at the dining table in front of a gaudy looking tree, wearing the ugliest Christmas jumper Robert has ever seen. He’s smiling, though, and that alone makes everything worth it. 

“Hey,” Robert says, settling back against the headboard of his bed. He should be downstairs with Vic, drinking wine and eating mince pies, but he needs to talk to Aaron first, to see his face. 

“Hi,” Aaron replies, “I’ve missed ya these past few days,”

Robert shrugs, picking at a loose thread on his pillowcase, “Been busy, I guess, with all the Christmas planning. You know how it can get,” 

Aaron laughs, “Yeah, tell me about it. I haven’t had a moment’s peace in here since November,” 

They talk until near midnight, when Vic yells up the stairs and calls Robert a Scrooge for leaving her by herself on Christmas Eve. He hates saying goodbye to Aaron, hates closing the laptop over and being alone again, but it’s been three years now. He really should be used to it all. 

“Goodnight,” Aaron says, eyes fond as he looks directly into the camera at Rob, “And Merry Christmas, eh? Have a good one. Maybe next year will be our first one together,” 

“I hope so,” Robert says, meaning every syllable, “Merry Christmas, Aaron.”

*** 

They don’t skype on Christmas day. Aaron texts him an apology and a brief explanation of an internet disaster which likely won’t be fixed until after the holidays. Robert throws his phone across the room and tries his hardest not to look like he’d rather be anywhere else. When they sit down to dinner, he feels the emptiness and wonders how different things would have been if Aaron was sitting next to him.

It doesn’t really matter, anyway.

*** 

Robert watches the countdown on tv with his family, listens to the excited cheers when the clock strikes midnight. He allows the claps on his back and the kisses pressed to his cheek, glasses of alcohol clinked against his own, but he feels detached. His phone is silent in his trouser pocket. Aaron hasn’t text him since yesterday evening, and though it’s not unusual for the two of them to be out of contact for days at a time if they’re both busy, Robert had hoped that, today, at least, he’d get something. Even if it was just a simple ‘Happy New Year’.

“Are you alright?” Vic asks him, trailing into the kitchen on his heels. He’s left for some peace and quiet, going into the fridge to get himself another drink. If the festive season was for drowning your sorrows, that’s what he planned on doing. Alone.

He sighs, twisting the lid off the bottle of beer and setting the bottle opener down on the counter. “I’m fine, Vic,” he says, “Go back to the party,” 

She twists her lip, looking worried, but she keeps her distance, hovering by the door instead of crossing the room to him, “You don’t look fine,” she counters, then, “But I know better than to prod at ya. Just, I love you, okay? We all do, and we’re here for you no matter what,” 

“Vic,” 

“I’m just saying, Rob. Happy New Year, eh,” she raises her champagne flute, and he can’t help but smile at her, raising his bottle in return. She’s trying, and he appreciates the effort, even if he’d rather be alone and blissfully drunk. 

(Really, he’d rather be with Aaron.)

He sits up until 1am, so that he doesn’t look too asocial, but decides that enough is enough when people start getting teary eyed and singing auld lang syne, so he gives Vic a nudge to let her know where he’s going, and heads upstairs. 

Even with the door shut, the muffled sound of festivities from downstairs still reaches him. He strips out of his clothes, throwing them into the washing basket, and crawls under his duvet, eyes already heavy. 

Robert is asleep minutes after his head hits the pillow, dreaming of the New Year, hoping that it will bring him better memories. 

He wakes up to the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. A glance at the clock confirms that it’s only eight in the morning, far too early for Vic to be out of her bed. She likes a lie in, and usually doesn’t surface until well after ten on a good day. He grabs his dressing gown from the end of the bed and shrugs it on, quietly padding to the top of the stairs to listen, wondering if Diane has dropped by to visit and helped herself to a cup of tea. 

The noise continues, and Robert’s curiosity gets the better of him. He makes his way down the stairs, pulling his dressing gown closed around himself and tying it to stave off the worst of the chill. 

He creaks the living room door open and steps in, rounding the Christmas tree and heading to the kitchen, where he freezes, sure his eyes are deceiving him. 

Aaron stands up from the table, looking nervous. He plays with the hem of his hoodie, fighting the smile that flickers across his face, warming his features. 

“Hey,” he says, voice soft, “Happy New Year,”


End file.
